


Irony of Death

by Genderbenderaf



Series: luctu capillum series [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Angst, Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Guilt, Hair, Hurt No Comfort, I wrote this at 4am help, Phil and Ranboo are dead, Ranboo is Techno's kid, Starvation, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is the godfather of Tommy Wilbur and Tubbo, Wilbur gets distracted by flowers, adopted tho, aha Techno angst, like major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29697534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genderbenderaf/pseuds/Genderbenderaf
Summary: And Tommy and Tubbo looked upon the man before them, eyes stinging with tears and heart and mind alike shattered with grief. There was a sickly sweet irony to it all, that the so-called God of Death was bested by death itself.Technoblade’s confidence in his abilities were too high, and Phil and Ranboo’s loyalty to him too strong and hearts too big. The teens had learned time and time again, loving Technoblade left you with scars that ran too deep to heal and they had known all along that getting too close would leave them dead.ORTechno angst after Ranboo and Phil death
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: luctu capillum series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170458
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	1. I know, I know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magpie1230](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpie1230/gifts).



> Take your angst, @Magpie1230. How dare you continue to fuel my hc /j
> 
> Also thanks to my friend Em who proof-read this for me
> 
> CW: death, depression, (implied) starvation, angst, guilt, cussing
> 
> Enjoy :)

The small house of Technoblade’s remained alone and desolate for days to come as the man stayed in his bunker. He had all but destroyed his hair, leaving it pooling in various spots on the stone floor. He had barely eaten or slept and what little he did had been from absolute necessity. His clothes were tattered from clawing at them in distress and it felt as though his cheeks would be stained with tears forevermore. 

Finally, when his mind could no longer take the stone walls and all-seeing wither skulls, he left. He knew he had to look atrocious but his weary brain couldn’t care less. The voices were nearly silent as were his thoughts as a tired and depressive haze washed over his mind. He simply made his way to a small base outside of the Badlands, a secret regrouping place he and Phil had created years before as a backup- the Artic biome would be too painful. Once there, he moved automatically, undressing his armor and cleaning his weapons before sinking onto the bed and opting to stare at the wall

It took a while before he could pick himself up- it could have been hours or days, he was not sure he knew the difference anymore. He slugged into the bathroom, gripping the sink like a lifeline as he stared at his barely recognizable appearance. Tired, red eyes, choppy red-pink hair, lips bit to exhaustion, clothes nearly ripped from his sharp nails. 

This is ridiculous, he told himself, I cannot allow myself to be weak like this.

He waited, silently hoping for the voices to chime in, to solidify his weakness or to allow him to be vulnerable he did not care, so long as someone would give him some sort of direction. 

It had been years since he had to operate without Phil or Ranboo and he wasn’t sure he knew how to. Tears well up in his eyes at the thought of the two and he focuses on pushing them back down. He was the Blood God, the Blade, he couldn’t afford such petty things as tears. He was stronger than that. 

But the tears continued to come.

So he pushes it all down. The tears, the sadness, the loneliness, the mourning, the anger, the pain, the betrayal, all of it. Any and all emotions he throttles and shoves deep inside, shutting all emotional functions down. He couldn’t afford to be weak. He couldn’t afford to feel.

In a bathroom on the edge of enemy territory, looking like absolute shit, mere weeks after his closest family died, Technoblade felt numb.

After all, you can’t be emotionally vulnerable if there are no emotions.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Wilbur was concerned. 

He hadn’t heard anything from Phil, Ranboo, or Technoblade in a while, and the news of Dream’s death had spread like wildfire around the area. Slit throat in his sleep, they said. Who would have done this? they wondered. 

But Wilbur knew better. Killing Dream was an accomplishment, a previously thought impossible feat, and anyone who could do such a thing would boast to no end. The only person who wouldn’t is Technoblade, the Blood God having far too much experience with murder to bat an eye at another casualty of his. But when the ghost went by to visit the man, he was met with an empty property and two unmarked graves nearby.

Wilbur was worried.

His brother may be one to isolate from time to time, but Ranboo and Phil, too? At least one of them would have notified Wilbur if something came up. And the graves. Technoblade was never one to empathize with his kills and the pet cemetery was a ways away from the property in the other direction. Who could the man have cared enough about to allow them to be buried so closely to his property?

Wilbur was scared. 

He had seen Technoblade wandering through the Badlands, looking like hell froze over, hair shorn off and clothes ripped. He couldn’t remember why precisely hair was such a big deal, but he knew that everyone had been quite worried when Phil and Tommy had cut theirs, so it had to mean something bad. 

He had tried to call out to the man, only to be ignored. It had been then that he had noticed the blood splatter on Technoblade’s clothes and the unfocused eyes that seemed to be in a daze. Something was wrong with the man. Something was wrong with him and Ranboo and Phil were nowhere to be seen which meant the wrong thing had to do with the two.

The graves.

This was not a job for a ghost with a bad memory. So, a very scared, worried, and concerned Wilbur made his way to Snowchester, intent on finding the two people he hoped could help.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Tommy and Tubbo had not expected for it to happen.

They had been rejoiced at the news of Dream’s death. They had celebrated for days upon days, drinking cider and dancing and laughing into the early hours of the morning. They had been free. Free of worry, free of fear, free of tormenting. Free to just be.

But then Wilbur had shown up not long after, eyes scared and mouth jumbled with ranting words as he attempted to get his distressing thoughts out before he forgot them all. Tommy and Tubbo had listened, worry edging into their minds at the thought of Technoblade- the man who never cut his hair, who had looked at their destroyed country and laughed- broken and bested by an event they hadn’t even heard about. 

Then Wilbur had told them about the graves. And Ranboo and Phil’s absence. And they turned to each other; worry, clear confusion, and an underlying fear of the worst evident on both their faces. By the time their attention had returned to Wilbur, the ghost had already been distracted by a nearby fox, sadness and distress gone from his mind. 

They traveled the path to the Badlands, to the place Wilbur had said Technoblade had gone to. The door was unlocked and there was armor tossed on a nearby chest. In the center of the room, slumped against the bed and unseeing eyes pointed towards the ceiling, lay the mighty Technoblade. 

“My god.” Tubbo muttered, taking in the shattered man before them.

“What happened?” Tommy demanded, though he feared he already knew.

Technoblade simply moved his gaze to them, the truth written on his face. Tubbo gripped onto Tommy’s wrist for some form of comfort as Tommy snarled at the man, “It’s your fucking fault.”

“I know.” Was Technoblade’s shaky reply, paired with a sharp breath and a watery grimace. “I know.”

He did know, he truly did know.

And Tommy and Tubbo looked upon the man before them, eyes stinging with tears and heart and mind alike shattered with grief. There was a sickly sweet irony to it all, that the so-called God of Death was bested by death itself.

Tommy and Tubbo hadn’t expected for it to happen, but they weren’t surprised by the events. 

Technoblade’s confidence in his abilities were too high, and Phil and Ranboo’s loyalty to him too strong and hearts too big. The teens had learned time and time again, loving Technoblade left you with scars that ran too deep to heal and they had known all along that getting too close would leave them dead. 

Phil and Ranboo had known it too, but they had been too enraptured in their love and loyalty to depart from the Blood God’s grasp.

It was time Technoblade knew it, too.


	2. What was the point?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Techno angst but this time with ~death~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: death, depression, (implied) starvation, angst
> 
> Please enjoy :)
> 
> and thank you to my friend Em for checking my grammar
> 
> ik it's really short but i needed to get it out

No one knew what had happened to the notorious Blood God, not even his godchildren. He had disappeared, never seen again. Some speculated he had been killed as well- a mercenary who had taken out the two biggest threats in one night. Others believed he left in order to find a new realm to wreak havoc on.

The answer was much simpler and yet much more complicated.

Technoblade had left, yes, but he hadn’t gone in the sense they believed. In a cabin but mere miles from the epicenter of the realm, he had wasted away. Lonely, depressed, and with no motivation for basic upkeep, he had deteriorated quickly.   
His hair had curled around his chin once more, but what was it worth if he had no Phil to braid it for him when his mind swirled with worry?

His eyes had lost their redness, but what did that mean if there was no one to care about seeing his distress?

It had been wiped from his blade for the last time, but why did he care if there was no son to do it for?

His stomach churned with guilt and hunger, but what was the point of food if there was no family to eat with?

His body screamed for help, but for what purpose was life if there was no one to live for?

It is there, in the cabin, with a heavy heart and no resistance, that the Blood God closes his eyes for the final time and breathes his last breath, waiting for death to take his awaiting body.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see this, hydrate please :)
> 
> also please I need more friends my discord is warningthewarden #9338
> 
> if you have any hc ideas or things comment and I'll attempt to write them :D
> 
> Also, yes I know, my dialogue is shit and I am trying to make it better/


End file.
